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CoNFuSeD_Elessar
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: September 20, 2006 09:32
[Part Two of the joint post by nelenata and me]

Rosien laughed merrily. "If you seek to blend in, I fear you have chosen the wrong path in life! Though you might have had that trouble whatever you did; some people are born to be noticed and looked up to, I think."
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, thinking. "If one stands out, one is listened to, as well as not being forced to listen to idiotic prattling seven days a week. There are advantages. But yes, I believe that the lot of any lord or great man is not to blend in. It comes with the title." She raised one eyebrow and smiled. "You may have to learn to live with it, Arkaniel."

Arkaniel turned to the woman again, smiling: "is that a compliment, my lady?"

"An observation," she replied lightly. "Take it in what sense you will!" She smiled. "You have no need for *me* to do any explaining. I like talking to you; you never need everything to be clarified and laid out in simple patterns before you understand it."
'Unlike the majority of people who hang around me,' she thought silently, but did not voice it. It wasn't the most complimentary of assertions to make in public.

"I thank you very much and I can return the same compliments to you. One, especially not a woman, doesn't become so succesful in business by being beautiful alone." Arkaniel nearly swallowed his last words, since they felt like cheating on Reycha somehow. He was a bit uncomfortable now, realising he was barely a thin line away from flirting with another woman...

"And now it is you who gives more credit than is due." Rosien had a merchant's instinct for conversation, and she knew that she was pushing boundaries. Time to back off a little. Softly-softly was more likely the better way. "If I can run a business, it is due to my father and not to me. He never saw why I should get away without learning the business when my brothers had to..."
She grinned. "Spare the rod and spoil the child, and all that! But I thank him for it now. My lady mother would sooner have had me dress my hair and embroider wall-hangings, I know." One eyebrow quirked upwards. "I do not believe she ever quite got over feeling that business was somehow rather sordid for a titled woman."

"It seems our childhood was much alike," Arkaniel added, happy with the change of subject, "My father was severe and intended me to take over the estate to reign it in his example. There was no room for amusement, only for studying. I've had my share of punishments, too, for each time I 'escaped' and spent an afternoon playing with some of the farmer's children. At that time, I hated my father for keeping me so much in check, but now, I can appreciate it, since I need everything he or one of my teachers thaught me for my task."
"His strictness was one of the reasons I ran away, next to the desire to defend my country..."

"Oh? When --?" Rosien began to ask, then shook her head and interrupted herself. "No, forgive me. That is none of my business."

"I don't mind talking about it at all. I ran away from home when the call to arms from Minas Tirith reached our estate. I desperately wanted to join the military and fight for my country and against the Orcs, to become one of the heroes I always read and studied about... My father refused off course, so I defied him and took of. That is why he disinhereted me. For the next couple of years I was a common man, or better said, a regular soldier, without name or funds to secure a nice officer's title."

Rosien raised her eyebrows. "I mean no disrespect to your father, but to disinherit a son for bravery seems a little misguided to me... How old were you then?"

"Back then I was 18 years old. And about my father, he didn't see it as bravery, more as folly: why would a nobleman do the fighting when there were plenty of commoners to fight FOR you. That was another thing on which we argued a lot. He saw noblemen and commoners as two totally separated groups, while I always saw noblemen as those capable of giving leadership, motivation, help, safety and
justice to other people."

Rosien thought for a moment. "I can see both sides, to be frank, though I must admit that I prefer your definition of leadership." She didn't go so far as to consider all people equal regardless of class, but it was true that a lord owed a duty to his subjects. "Power should be about compromising for the good of the many, not about dictating to secure the wealth and comfort of the few."
"On the other hand, that means that a lord has a duty to keep himself safe, if only he can guide and command his people properly. What good can a dead, heirless lord do?" She shook her head. "The *son* of a lord is another matter, perhaps. If he is not the one who guides, then why should he not march with the others?"
She paused. "Then again, if that son is the sole heir..." Rosien shook her head and laughed. "Forgive me. I get carried along with things like this."

“Trust me, you are not the only one, I can become quite fierce in discussions about this subject. I just don’t like a society to be divided by class. Everyone should get his chance to become someone, and for the same reason, I don’t think noblemen’s son should be noblemen just because they are the son of…”

Rosien inclined her head. "But then, is not a nobleman's son or daughter the best-qualified to take over lordship when their father dies? A successful rule and protection of the people requires education, and a great deal of it. I believe that few save the nobility would be able to rule well, whether one believes in birthright or no." She gave a small shrug. "The nobility perpetuates itself."

"I have to admit, what you say is true, but certainly not always. Leaders are born, not made, and education only helps them so much."

She grinned, teasing. "Then you have no need to thank your father for anything, and might as well have played your childhood away."

Arkaniel started blushing a bit after her remark and stuttered a bit: "I didn't mean it like that..."

"I did, though." Rosien saw his face and laughed. "That's a pretty shade of pink you have gone, my lord Arkaniel. A change of mind?"

“Not a change of mind, no”. Arkaniel didn't know what to answer more to the woman, so he tried to change the subject, though lacking a bit of subtlety. "We've been talking all along about now, let's hear a bit more about you now..."

Rosien looked around for a moment while she thought, caught off-guard by the question. The tent was still quite full and noisy, though more and more of those still there were either staggering out or were slumped across tables.
"I am only twenty-one," she said after a moment, looking at him and giving a small smile. "There is little to tell that you do not already know! I fear my life has been far less exciting than yours so far, though I was lucky enough to be able to travel far more than most girls of my age and birth. I always loved seeing new places, new customs, new scenery..." She shook her head. "But I was always glad to get home, too." Rosien sighed. "I miss the sea. Have you ever seen the sea?"

"Yes I have seen the sea. Several seas to be honest. I've been garrisoned at the Sea of Rhun for a year. I thought that was something already, but after I left the Army I travelled throughout Middle-Earth and I was really stunned to see the sea from A tower in the Grey Havens. I've also been in the south of Gondor, and travelled from Dol Amroth to Pelagiad by ship.”

A warm smile crept over Rosien's features, as it so often did when she talked about her home. "Dol Amroth is a beautiful city... But of course, nowhere is so lovely as the place one grows up in. When you wake in the morning, the wind blows through your hair, and you can always smell the salt, fresh in the air. There is always something new in a harbour town. The sea is never the same."
"I will look forward to seeing this city be rebuilt. When one walks through a town, one can see how things have been changed or added over time... It will be interesting to see it happen first-hand."
"Will you have to hire craftsmen and architechts?"

"That would be very necessary, since the city is one big ruin. We have to build everything from scratch, using the foundations that are still there. Luckily, there are a good deal of craftsmen and some architects amongst us. I hope the work progresses quickly, so that everyone has a decent home before Autumn. After that there is still the palace, the library, the houses of healing and so on, all left to be rebuild. But in time, we might be able to match Minas Tirith in splendor.” Arkaniel already pictured a rebuilt Annuminas in his mind, delighted at the prospect of a prosperous and breathtaking city.

Rosien smiled. "I hope so. Though I have never been there, so I can say nothing about the setting or the ruins of the city. I gather you have been to the ruins before?"

"Aah yes, that was just after Reycha and I married. My journey through Middle-Earth had come to an end when I reached the Forsaken Inn where I fell in love with her. A while after we married, we travelled together through the area and we stumbled upon a sign indicating the way to Annuminas. When we reached it, I found the place so amazing and at the same time I thought it a pity it lay in ruins. When we returned, the idea of rebuilding something like that grew in my mind and I talked a lot about it with my wife. She encouraged me to follow my dreams and so I ended up at the court of King Elessar, asking permission and help for this undertaking."

Rosien tucked away the nugget of information about his wife, storing it for future reference as she did with everything she found out. She would think about it later. "And evidently he gave it. Who would not? It is high time Arnor was restored to its old glory; high time someone had conviction enough to do it."

It was already nearing dawn and most of the people were leaving, except for a few who started cleaning up. Arkaniel excused himself to Rosien: "You'll have to excuse me now, my lady, but the party is running at its end, and everything has to be packed up again before we can set out... We can talk further later, maybe even during the last days of travelling ahead of us, but now I'll help packing up and then I'll have to awaken my wife and son for the morning." Arkaniel kissed her hand politely with a bow and turned around to help the packing. When everything was done, he walked back to his tent and kissed his wife, who was sleeping like a rose awake with the words: Good morning my darling, it is time to leave Bree behind...

Rosien smiled. "Certainly! Good night, Arkaniel - it was good to speak with you again. I shall not try to dissuade you from being useful... even if you *do* have people to do it for you!" With that, she turned and slipped out of the tent, thinking. If she was going to play this game, then she would have to do it carefully, and she would have to do it well. He was obviously attached to his wife, whatever the circumstances surrounding the marriage might have been. Rosien sighed, and headed back to her tent. She would sleep on it, and think in the morning.
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: October 18, 2006 04:36
JP by Nif and me

--

After a short, but good night sleep Maena woke up. A soft breeze blew gently through the camp and had kissed her awake with its tender touch. She lied still underneath the blankets, glancing at the sky without actually thinking of anything. She noticed that her last night’s headache and nausea weren’t keeping her company anymore and a smile appeared on her face. It dissappeared again, however, when she suddenly remembered the offering Lord Arkaniel had made her and the following agreement with the Lady. Startled did she push away the blankets and hurried towards a tent, in which she changed the long, lightbrown petticoat for a darkbrown dress, trimmed with lightblue sashes; it was the finest dress she possesed and she only wore it at really special occasions, but it seemed like the only suitable one for a Lady’s maiden. Quickly did she braid her hair and then hurried to Lady Reycha’s tent, desperately hoping she wouldn’t be late. When she finally arrived at the tent there was no sight of Reycha, and everyone visible seemed to be hard at work. Maena bit on her lip, what was she supposed to do now? Wait here and hope she would either arrive soon or come out of the tent? Or was she supposed to just go inside? O how she hated this job already. She decided to wait, but after ten minutes, though it seemed like hours to her, the girl took a deep breath and stepped inside. She had thought the woman would start to yell, or perhaps greet her like she found it completely normal that a stranger would walk into her tent, but the sight she found inside was beyond all her imaginations. Among the pillows lying on the bed lay Reycha; her face turned to the entrance and clearly asleep. Instinctively did Maena take a step backwards, only she hadn’t noticed the pans neatly piled up only a few centimeters behind her... with infernal racket did they fall on the ground, and ashamed did the girl throw her hands in her face.

The sudden sound made Reycha jump. With a gasp, she sat up, fully awake and her heart beating wildly, ready to see yet another couple of thieves intruding her home and threatening her son. Yet, all she saw was a terrified girl hiding her face in her hands, as Reycha's only yesterday washed pans were skittered all around her. The relief came along with a realisation of where Reycha herself was - in bed! - and the comic side of the event itself... And Reycha started laughing!

Maena lowered her hands as Reycha’s laugh filled the tent. Her eyes flew through it and saw the fallen pans all over the floor, the Lady in the bed and herself in the corner, and she finally was able to see the comic Reycha had seen. Shyly did she start to grin as well.

"Good Morning, Maena", Reycha managed to get out as her breath returned to normal.

“Good Morning, my Lady.” The girl answered, while she made a bow.

Then, a long, awkward silence followed, as both women remained where they were, unsure about what to do next. Reycha sta huddled in her blanket, suddenly embarrassed with this young girl clearly waiting for something like orders from her, but unable to figure out a single one!
“I’m sorry,” Maena started, when she noticed the awkward look on Reycha’s face. “I must have been mistaken. I thought you expected me here.” Looking down to the ground, she waited for the woman to send her away.

"Ah..." Reycha now remembered agreeing with the girl that she would come this morning to start her duties as her maid. So, it looked like the time to take on her own duties as the Lady had come. "Yes, you are right, Maena. I must have overslept," Reycha apologized, then looked around her for any sign of help, but nothing came. Then, she sighed. "Could you please just wait outside while I get dressed?" she asked Maena. Reycha guessed she should have asked for her new maid's assistance with getting dressed, but she just couldn't stand the thought of any other person seeing her undressed, than her husband.

The girl looked up and nodded. “As you wish, my Lady.” She smiled slightly, glad that she hadn’t been wrong. Maena stepped outside, carefully not to trip again. There, she let the sunbeams warm her cold hands, and waited for Reycha to call her in again.

Reycha jumped out of her bed. Never had she gotten dressed and ready in such a short time! She looked at Marim who was still sleeping and ran her fingers through her hair... When a thought occured to her. "Maena? Do come inside, please," she called the girl. As Maena entered, Reycha handed her a hair-brush. "Please, help me with my hair," she said with a smile, as her long, black, curly hair cascaded over her back. Finally, she would have somebody to help her with this!

Maena smiled as she accepted the brush and while holding the long, thick hair with her left hand, she started to brush with long, fine strokes. At least this she could do. She had cherished her own locks like a little treasure and had helped her friends with their hair for special occasions. After a while she stopped and asked: “What would you like, my Lady?”

Reycha thought a little. What could she want? And what could she ask from a simple peasant girl? "Just wind it up... somehow.”

She took up the brush again but then hesitated. What would she do? Not just a plain braid, she was Arkaniel’s wife after all. But then again, it would just be an ordinary day, nothing special. The girl bit on her lip, trying desperately to come up with something suitable. Eventually she made three braids; two very small ones, and one with the rest of her hair. She pinned them up in a bun, with the two little braids coming together in the ribbon she used, and then falling down alongside. She had seen her mother doing it a couple of times and the result looked neat without being too exaggerated.

It felt good - to be sitting and feel somebody comb and do her hair! Reycha was burning with the desire to see the outcome. When Maena had finished, Reycha dug out of her bag a tiny mirror. Turning it this way and that, she tried to look at her hairdo the best she could. A pity, she couldn't see the back of her head...
Finally, she turned to Maena with a wide smile on her face. "This is just perfect, thank you!"

Maena answered her smile while a light blush appeared on her face. “I’m glad you like it.”

"Mom? What's for the breakfast?" suddenly came a sleepy voice from behind. Marim stood there, rubbing his eyes that were stil full with sleep. "Oh!" Exclaimed Reycha. She had absolutely forgotten about breakfast! "Just a moment, I'll get it ready!"

A bit uncomfortable did Maena watch the woman walk through the tent, getting the things she needed. “Can I help you?” She asked quietly.

"Help? No, thank you, I'll manage myself. I believe you should better go now. We are just about to leave, and perhaps your parents need you. But, if you would like to, I will be happy to share my wagon with you during the day's ride."

“Well, I...” What kind of answer did she expect? Was she supposed to stay with Reycha, or would she find it a burden? She slightly shook her head. Foolish girl! She just told you you needed to leave! “I’ll go then, if you do not need me for anything else.”

"Yes, of course!" Reycha answered, busy with the eggs she was preparing for Marim. She didn't even notice Maena leaving. An hour later, they were ready to leave.

The girl slipped out of the tent and walked back through the crowded camp, wondering whether her parents would have the horses ready for departure.
CoNFuSeD_Elessar
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: November 15, 2006 10:02
Rosien sighed and fiddled absently with her horse's mane, holding the reins with one hand. By the Valar, she was bored. The dappled grey mare arched her neck against the bit; Rosien's hands adjusted automatically, softening to the motion of her mount's head. The adjustment took no thought. Good grief, she was even bored of riding, and that was something she had never believed could happen.
The trouble was, she reflected moodily, that she had nobody to talk to except Arkaniel, and he was so often busy. Regardless of her intentions (and even now she wasn't certain whether she could go through with what she wanted), she wasn't pushy enough to intrude where she wasn't confident of being welcomed. After a while one developed an instinct for company.
She reached up to brush a strand of hair from her eyes, when she realised that for once, Arkaniel rode alone - or rather, as alone as he ever got. He was not speaking to anyone, at least. Seizing the precious opportunity for a discussion, she nudged the mare forwards until she rode alongside him. Rosien noted that he looked a little preoccupied.
"What are you thinking of - if the question is permissible?" she asked. "Is it tonight that we arrive?"

The wild lands north of the Shire never ceased to amaze Arkaniel with their untamed beauty… Dense forests seperated with bushy flats and grazy hills surrounded the caravan for as far as one could see. Riding his stallion close to the head of the group, Arkaniel let the wild yet rustic atmosphere of his surroundings seeple into him. This land was his home now and he sure loved it. He hoped that all the people who followed him here, would share his love and his luck. Throughout the morning, he only greeted some people, never engaging dialogue, just riding while enjoying the nature and the smell of his new home…
The last two days had been pretty monotone and the somewhat distancing stance of his wife these past days made him feel… well… as if… He didn’t know how that made him feel, but before he could think any further he heard a sweet voice interrupt him: "What are you thinking of - if the question is permissible?" she asked. "Is it tonight that we arrive?"
Arkaniel turned around and smiled at the sight of the beautiful young woman riding next to him. She looked amazing… *now where did that thought come from*. *Your wife being a bit distant for two days and you immediately melt for the first woman you see…*. He quickly banished all thoughts in that direction from his mind and replied to Rosien:
“We should be there well before dusk, unless we have some major accident or delay in the next couple of hours, which is quite unlikely.” He couldn’t help but smile again at her… *married or not married, I can at least admire a beautiful woman, for she is very*
He composed himself again and said: “And I am not exactly sure what I was thinking, I was just marvelling myself in the beauty of y…*by the Valar, he wanted to say your appearance…* um… the surroundings.” *Good save Arkaniel, but just think about Reycha and Marim and how happy you are…* *Why am I suddenly making such a fool of myself*
Arkaniel fell silent, unsure why he was thinking what he was thinking…

A smile tugged at Rosien's mouth. "I should be careful about declaring an accident unlikely, Arkaniel." An amused eyebrow twitched upwards. "It is generally considered a recipe for disaster, I believe."
The smile turned a little wry, just short of self-mocking. "Then again, merchants are arguably the most superstitious folk under the sky about such things. I distinctly recall being forbidden ever to declare it 'obvious' that a trade would go in my father's favour." She grinned. "And I was seven at the time."
Rosien glanced at Arkaniel; he looked slightly flustered, and if she had been her sister she would have giggled. But her sister was an incorrigible flirt and had long been established as a silly goose in Rosien's opinion, despite Rívorniel's four years' seniority.
So Rosien merely smiled, and decided he looked rather charming when he was a little wrong-footed. "But yes, this is a lovely country." She inhaled deeply - it wasn't sea air, but it was fresh and clean-smelling from the rain last night. "I will not be sorry to be able to start *doing* something. I must confess, I find riding and thinking of nothing wears a little thin after a while."
"Have you any particular plans for rebuilding, or will that wait until we are are arrived?"

Arkaniel listened to the woman babbling, in fact he liked listening to her. After her question he thought for a little while.
"I think most important is to make sure the farmers are prepared soon, so they can plant their seeds as soon as possible. furthermore, the houses must be repaired fast, too. Not that it is too cold with the summer coming, but these parts can get really rainy and all. After that, we can start on the palace, roads, market places, storage rooms, barracks, the fortifications and everything else.
The last step wil be re-ornating the city.
Most of the repairs won't take too long I hope, since most of the material is already ready for taking, it is just piled up in heaps of rubble. and most of the other resources we have with us.”

Arkaniel added, with a teasing grin now: "Off course, I presume you and the other richer people would want a nice house as fast as possible, but I am afraid we'll all have to settle for a shack or a tent even for the first month or two"


Rosien laughed. "With something to lean on I can write as well in a tent as I can in the grandest hall in Gondor. If I can keep my records dry and have walls around me by winter, I shall be happy enough. One can hardly expect to snap one's fingers and rebuild a city in the blink of an eye!"
She sobered. "To be frank, I am more anxious to find some secure premises than to find a house. If past experience is anything to go by, I will spend little enough time in it." Rosien caught herself, smiled and shook her head. "My apologies; I talk work too much, I know. You must think me obsessed with money."

"the thought had crossed my mind", Arkaniel smiled what he thought his most charming smile, to reassure her he didn't mean it, "But for the present, I think you will be busier finding people to work for you, getting some ships build and so on. Now I think of it, the best premises you will probably get with the blacksmiths. There aren't enough people to search and start mining ore,
so there will be a huge demand. Off course, I don't need to tell you about your job, but that is just about anything I could think of." He winked at her, to accentuate his point in being silly.
*Talking about things you know nothing about wil certainly make you look a fool, so get a grip man*
"Do you have some relatives or friends amongst our expedition, or did you make friends during the journey?" Arkaniel asked the girl, to change the subject.
"Define 'friend'," Rosien sighed. "I've more tittering women hanging around me than I could -- that was uncharitable in the extreme, please forgive me," she interrupted herself mid-sentence.
"No relatives, no. My father did not particularly want me to come, actually. Or rather, my mother did not, and my father rarely manages to stand up to her. But it was me or my brother, and he is..." Rosien fished for an appropriate way to put it. "He is less than inclined towards business."
"So you have no-one to confide in or chat with in this group of several thousands of people?" Arkaniel was nearly stunned and incomprehensily he felt ity for the woman...
Rosien gave a short laugh. "I am too easily aggravated and too choosy to be complaining, Arkaniel!" A twinkle of humour glinted in her eyes; Rosien was not given to self-pity, indeed she avoided it like the plague whenever it threatened to swamp her. "If you grow up the youngest of six and the only one with red hair, you learn very quickly to stand firm on your feet without support, as it were."
She shrugged one shoulder in an unusual display of indifference. "I seem to get on better with men than with women, and it is difficult to find men to talk to in these circumstances. It is the women who usually want to chatter."
Something about her face hardened a little - a barely perceptible tightening of the jaw, and a very faint note of bitterness rang under her words. "If I were to make many close friends, I should have been born like my sister, or I should have been born a man."
Arkaniel was unsure how to take all of what she said. Not sure what to say and not exactly sure what he was thinking he said, before he could hold himself: "That would have been a waste..." He shut his mouth quickly, surprised that he had actually said that... What was it with this woman...*Am I attracted to her? Well she is very attractive to be honest, but still, I am married*
in an attempt to get away from these thoughts he asked: "Well, you could count me as a friend and I am sure there are lots of other people here that would like to be your friend, you just need to meet them, for which you will have plenty of opportunity after we reach the city."

It was with some embarrassment that Rosien felt the warm blood rise to her cheeks as she coloured slightly. For pity's sake, she thought to herself curtly. Yes, he was handsome and yes, he was... well, if not exactly flirting then definitely doing something, but that didn't mean she had to *blush* like some simpering girl! By the Valar, she hated having fair skin.
If there was something she hated more, it was not having complete control over herself. Though she hadn't said, it, deep down Rosien knew that she generally disliked confiding in people because it worried her not to have control of all her thoughts and feelings. Once out in the open, who knew what damage could be done? She squashed the thought and smiled, but lowering her eyes to her horse's mane in an uncharacteristically demure fashion. If she was going to be blushing, there was no call for it to be that obvious. "Thank you," she said simply. "And I would be honoured to be counted as one of yours."

And oddly, for Rosien, it did mean a lot. She had not been exaggerating; she found it difficult to make friends she could talk to, or at least friends who were not merely interested in her for their own gain. Oh, sweet Valar, she was going pink again. Rosien was beginning to feel as though she were being carried away by a headstrong horse and fighting for control. Good grief, woman...

They talked for a little while longer, but as the evening approached, so did their destination. Arkaniel said goodbye to Rosien and rode to the cart his wife and son were on, wanting to be together with them as they arrived. Some of the scouts, on the hill that was ahead of the settlers, blew their horns and everyone knew that this was it: they were home. When The first people went over the hill, everyone could hear their gasps of amazement. The city was large, and ideally located, on a broad green and fertile plain, at the edge of a beautiful and enormous lake. Just like most of the ancient cities of Men, most of the buildings and fortifications were in white stone. Though most of it was damaged or even completely collapsed to rubble, everyone saw the city as it would be soon in front of their eyes. The view was amazing now, they saw the city a mile ahead of them now, a white manmade structure on green plains and with mighty mountains as background under a bright blue sky. For this evening, everyone set up camp around the city walls after which several people went inside to see where they would start there new homes…
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: November 19, 2006 12:38
The morning air was sharp and fresh with the elusive scent of dew, as Halhigil walked on silent feet through the streets of the ruined city. The place was quiet; having arrived the previous night, the dawn had broken only an hour ago, and almost everyone was still abed. Oddly, Halhigil did not feel ill at ease surrounded by stone as most Silvan or Sindar did. He had Noldor in his blood, and though he considered himself Silvan, it was coming to the fore. He smiled to himself. Throwback. He had heard it before but never felt it.

Humming under his breath in the quiet air, he kicked a stray pebble absentmindedly as he looked around the ruins, visualising what the buildings would look like whole. This was when he liked cities best - when he could be quiet, unobserved, and trace its contours with his feet and his gaze.

After a refreshing night sleep, Arkaniel couldn't restrain himself any longer. He was drawn inside the city, like a bear to honey. He was excited to finally be here and to have the means of restoring the beauty that resided here, now hidden under the mask of ruins and rubble.

He strolled through the streets, picturing the buildings like they soon would be again, full of people, colours and joy.This was his home, he felt it in every fiber of his being. And not only his home, but the home of many other people, too, people who share his dream, a dream now about to come true.

A little while later, he reached the square in front of what remained of the palace. The white tiles, patterned numenorean symbols here and there, still looked in a fair state. The palace however, his own home, was a different matter.

He stood their for a while, gazing and thinking of how to start rebuilding it and what would be necessary for the reconstruction...

Humming softly to himself, Halhigil walked along the snaking, interrupted craggy pathways of crumbling walls and houses. Many of the streets were full of rubble; and besides, from up here he got a better view of how the city was laid out. But it was the ruins of the palace that really caught his attention. How big had it been -- how had it looked? He jumped lightly to the ground for a closer look, feet silent on the white tiles.

Arkaniel heard a soft sound, or rather, felt it, so to speak. He turned around a bit and noticed an Elf also gazing at the palace. It was Halhigil, the always silent and introverted Elf.He approached him and called out: "Quite a view, isn't it?"

Halhigil looked around to see Lord Arkaniel approach him. He smiled. So, he was not the only early riser. "That it is," he agreed quietly. For a long moment his gaze followed the ruins, followed the lines of walls and half-arches still standing, bleached white and dusty in the sun. "I wonder how it looked?" he mused, half to himself.

"One can only wonder", Arkaniel replied, "But the best we can do is rebuild it in the way we like it and cherish the hope that or recreation does honour to the original, or even surpass it. That is where we could use your skills, Master architect." Arkaniel grinned now, pleased that someone with Halhigils skills was here.

"Hardly," he replied automatically with a one-sided smile. He liked to think he could do this sort of thing -- or at least, he *had* liked to think he was some use at it. But Halhigil's confidence in his own abilities had taken something of a battering in the years since he had last worked as an architecht, and old habits died slowly.

He tilted his head to one side and rubbed his chin absently. "But it is a marvellous structure, even now. Look at what remains of those arches -- lovely. I would love to see what one could make of this. Honour the original, yes. From that I take it you wish to use what remains of the original structure?"

"Ah, yes, I would like it to stay the same, but We have to consider several things, like our building abilities, the materials we can come by now and so on. It doesn't matter really, you'll have to see what is possible." It was indeed a good question, but as Arkaniel answered, it didn't make a real diference... "Allthough, now I think of it, wouldn't it save a lot of time to use what there already is?"

"It would, if what remains is yet stable," he agreed. Halhigil gestured towards the ruin. "May I?" He was itching to get closer and visualise how it could be rebuilt. He had always had an uncanny ability to mentally reconstruct things; if someone's arm stuck out from behind a corner, Halhigil could usually tell what the position of the rest of their body was.

"Go ahead, it is your job after all," Arkaniel grinned in amusement, the shyness of the Elf would never cease to amaze him. "Just be careful in case it is not steady," He called after Halhigil...

Halhigil smiled. "I will not fall or let anything fall on me," he assured him before making his way swiftly through or over the piles of fallen stone, whichever was quickest, until he stood before the tallest section of wall still standing.

At its highest point it was about two stories high, but Halhigil guessed from the way it continued above the broken arch of a window that the building had been at least another floor higher. In his mind's eye, a picture swiftly sketched itself over the ruined walls. Arched windows, graceful columns now reduced to lumps of weathered stone, superimposed themselves over what he could see.

Slowly, he walked as if in a dream past the wall and into what would have been the building itself. Foundations and remains of walls jutted out of the rubble and were built upon in his imagination. Walls, soaring ceilings with long windows letting in shafts of morning sun, staircases, spacious chambers and well-proportioned corridors. He smiled. This was a good building.

Shaking his head to clear the picture, he surveyed the walls critically. "They look firm enough," he called. "But I am no mason or builder, so I cannot truly say. You would have to consult the experts on that issue." Agile as a cat, he jumped down from the wall he stood upon and walked back towards Arkaniel with a broad smile. "But it is a good building. Well-planned, not to say perfect. Good proportions to work with -- generous room, high ceilings, plenty of light, though I think that might be improved."

"Glad to hear all that, it is exactly as I imagined it in my dreams. What do you think about going back to the camp and pick out some masons and other craftsmen, so that you can start working on your schematics. The other architects can help with the houses and stores and so on, those don't require so much work... not to sound disrespectful."

"I -- I am sorry?" Taken by surprise, he looked at Arkaniel, then the ruins, then back to Arkaniel. It had simply not occurred to him that he would be entrusted with the task. "You wish for me to work on this?"

"I certainly wish that, but it is you who must decide whether or not to do it, I don't want to order you, this is just a request," Arkaniel smiled reassuringly.

"If you think I would do it justice, I would be honoured," he replied simply. "It is a very interesting commission." Inside, his thoughts were running around and shouting at each other. It was a spectacular building, a wonderful and unique opportunity. Halhigil knew it wouldn't come his way twice. And what if it went wrong? If he wasn't actually any good? If -- "I can draw up a few sketches and see which you prefer; alterations would be yours to make, for it will be *your* home, my lord," he said over the top of his own thoughts. "But yes, I shall speak to the craftsmen and get their opinions."

"That is settled then, let's go back now and have some breakfast. I was too tense this morning to eat. Afterwards I can help you search some craftsmen. I know about everyone that is here." Arkaniel slowly started walking back to the camp, delighted that Halhigil had taken the assignment.


[Edited on 19/11/2006 by nelenata]
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: December 28, 2006 12:31
JP by Nel and me

-----

After many days of riding, waiting, walking, they finally arrived at Arnor. Sorne stroke the manes of her horse and lay her head softly on Silfren’s back. “I’ll give you the best care, as soon as we’ve found a place, Silfren.” She whispered softly. Sorne raised her eyes and gazed over the landscape, the ruines. What she saw pleased her, and she knew she had made the right decision by coming here.

Not much later they had been pointed a dwelling and they led their horses to the ravaged stalls and placed their stuff in the house. There’d be a lot to repair, but the first priority would be the stalls. The horses needed a good place before the first rain would fall. And so the three of them started working, working and working untill days later, most of the stalls had been repaired.

The sun was shining, and Maenor was outside on the fields working on Baldor, while Sorne was carrying wood for the door of the stalls; the last thing they had to do before that part would be done. She put it down on the ground for a moment and stretched her back; she didn’t mind doing it, but after days of carrying around her back was starting to ache more than she had imagined.

Eranric kicked a stone and watched it skitter over the uneven road as he wandered through the streets on the outskirts of the city. The place was a hive of activity, with people running to and fro heaving planks of wood and even dragging blocks of stone around.

He shook his head in wonder. He had seen Talkan tinkering with a little model made of wood and string earlier, making no attempt to do anything to the small dwelling he had been allocated, even though the roof and most of the upper parts of the stone walls had caved in, and it looked like heavy work.

On enquiring, Talkan had replied something vague about lifting things with less force, and that Eranric would see. Deciding that it was best not to enquire, Eranric had gone for a stroll. Having spent the morning stripping out rotten roof timbers, a break was welcome, and he looked out beyond the reaches of the city.


The plains spread out like a map before him, and he grinned as he saw several horses grazing. It wouldn’t be long before much of this was ploughed up by the farmers, he guessed. Curious, he wandered over to the building right on the outskirts. Whoever lived there seemed to have done a good job on it already, though parts still looked unfinished.

As he approached, he saw a woman who looked to be about forty or perhaps a little younger, carrying several planks of wood. She put them down and stretched her back with a wince. “Do you want a hand with that?” asked Eranric automatically, gesturing at the wood. “It looks heavy.”

Sorne looked up and saw a young man approaching. “Yes, please.” She said with a smile. “An extra hand would always come out handy.” The woman lifted the first couple of planks, and made a small gesture, carefully not to drop them, to the remaining ones still lying on the floor. “You can carry these if you want.” She started walking to the stables, standing still to replace the planks occasionally.

Eranric smiled. "Surely." He gathered up the ones she had left on the floor and followed her towards what looked like stables, careful not to let any of them tip. The woman also looked curiously familiar, though he couldn't for the life of him say why. "Where would you like them?"

“Nearby the entrance would be fine; my husband will be using them to manufacture a new stabledoor this afternoon. The old one has been so badly destroyed, it’s easier just to start all over again.” She placed them on the floor and looked inside, where most of their horses were waiting patiently for her. “We really need a place to let them run.” She muttered to herself. Sorne turned around to the lad and nodded towards the place she had been coming from. “Shall we?” With great pace the two of them headed back to the remaining planks a couple of yards from where they had met. “My name is Sorne, by the way. Not that I’m not very thankful for your help, but isn’t there some place you need to be working, instead of here with someone you’ve never met before?”

Eranric smiled. "Oh, it'll keep. I've a roof over my head and there'll be time enough for it. I'll not be finished for a long while yet, so I very much doubt an hour or a day will make a lot of difference. And besides, it's dull work to be doing alone."

He glanced at the horses tethered inside; he could have sworn he'd seen one of them before. "My name is Eranric. Is there anything you could use another pair of hands for at all? I'd be more than happy to help. Are all these your horses? They look in wonderful condition."

“A social butterfly, eh?” Sorne laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Eranric. Yes, all these are ours. My husband is out in the fields with another one; a beauty, really.” She sighed, hoping Baldor’s progress would carry through. Her thoughts were being disturbed by the soft clacking of horsehoofs behind them. Sorne turned to the sound and saw her daughter coming towards them with her mare. “Eranric,” She started, as she saw her coming closer. “this is my daughter Maena.”
Oh! What a fool he was. Of course Sorne had looked a little familiar! "Good afternoon, Maena," he said, inclining his head in greeting but with a bit of a twinkle in his eye. He should have known. But remembering her comment about her parents seeing her talking to men, he said no more, uncertain whether she would be willing to say that they had met previously.

Abruptly Maena stopped, causing Snowfall to startle a few steps to the side. Automatically did Maena place her hand on the mare’s nose to calm her down, while her eyes were fixed on the guy standing beside her mother. “Hello.” She said eventually, her eyes lowered to the ground. Why was he at her parent’s farm? Sorne noticed the awkwardness arising between the two of them and took a step forward. “Eranric was so kind to lend me a hand.” She spoke.

Oh, help, thought Eranric at the back of his mind. Maena probably thought he was following her around with dubious intentions, like that slimy fellow who had lived by the baker in his old village. Well, not that he was exactly averse to studying her face and figure with great interest, but there were manners. And he very much doubted she’d appreciate it, so he kept his gaze friendly, but carefully neutral. "Not at all," he said amiably to Sorne. "I was just passing by and got curious." He gave a rather sheepish smile. "But if there's anything you're wanting a spare set of hands with, I'm all yours."

Sorne smiled and gazed into the dark stables. “Well thank you, but I’m going to continue my work with the horses. You’ve been a great help though. Thanks again, and if you ever need anything, please do not hesitate to stop by.” Then, the woman turned to her daughter. “Maena dear, when you have put Snowfall in her box, can you then please divide the hay, and then let Mittle run for a while?” The girl nodded and after Sorne had stepped aside, she led her mare into the stables, stroking Mittle over her tiny noise while passing by. Mittle was a little, brown pony with a quiet character. However, she was still only three years old, and therefore at times quite unpredictable. Maena liked the little mare, but she was anxiously praying she wouldn’t make any strange moves. In the mean time, Sorne had gone in and after having put a halter around the head of the fiery sorrel, she walked outside and went on her way to the fields.

When she had gone, Eranric rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Maena -- I didn't realise you lived here. I mean, not that I wouldn't have come by if I'd known -- well, I wouldn't have, not because I don't want to see you, I do, but --" He broke off and ran a hand through his thick hair, suddenly hearing the voice at the back of his mind that was screaming at him to shut up. For pity's sake, he wasn't a great speaker, but he liked to think he was reasonably articulate most of the time. "I, er -- um. Yes," he finished.

Maena smiled, relieved that she wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable. She bit on her lip while she checked Snowfall’s hoofs, not quite sure what to say next. Eventually she stood before him again, for a tiny second she dared to look into his eyes, and then she quickly went away to get Mittle’s halter at the other end of the stables. The girl opened the box and let it slip over her head. She took hold of the end of the rope and then adressed the boy, who was still patiently waiting for her to say something. She shook her head slightly, still not quite able to find the right words, and then suddenly let go of the rope. “Oh no,” she whispered. How could she have forgotten about the hay? She looked at Eranric and pushed the rope into his hands. “Can you please hold this for me? Mittle will step on it if I let it fall on the ground, and I really need to divide hay first.”


Eranric smiled and took the rope. "Surely." Maena almost reminded him of a young filly -- pretty and kind, but nervous and headshy, ready to leap out of her skin at a sudden movement. He studied the little brown mare as he ran a casual hand along her neck. Her coat was smooth and glossy, and she shook her head, snorting. "How old is she?" he asked. "Three, four?

“She’s three. Doesn’t she look beautiful? Later, when she’ll be older and has gotten less unpredictable, she’ll be absolutely perfect for...” Maena paused, swallowing the end of her line just in time. “Well anyway,” she continued eventually, when she couldn’t find any appropriate ending, “she’ll be perfect.”

Perfect for what? Eranric wondered, but Maena looked rather awkward, so he didn't press the issue. "She *is* rather lovely," he agreed. "Well-built, intelligent head... and I think you've some rather nice markings there, haven't you?" he addressed the mare, patting her neck. "I've always liked horses with socks, couldn't say why." He chuckled gently and looked up at Maena. "Is she still leaping out of her skin at fence-posts, and the like?"

Maena sighed at the thought of it. “Oh definitely. Bright coloured things also do the trick. But well, that’s normal for her age. Besides that she’s a doll.” She lay down the last bit of hay and stretched her back. “So, I’m finished.”

"A doll?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A red blush appeared on her cheeks. “I meant to say how sweet she is.”

"Sorry for what? I'm the one who wasn't keeping up. It makes more sense than a lot of things I say." He grinned. "Until I came up north here, I didn't realise I spoke in such a strong dialect. I've had a few people ask me what I was blethering on about."

“I haven’t had any trouble understanding you so far.” Maena laughed and took over the rope. She doubted for a moment, but then she asked: “Will you walk with me? In case she gets frightened by some scary objects.” She smiled while waiting for his answer, and for the first time she began to feel at ease around him.

He smiled. "Of course." He tilted his head at the little mare. "We'll protect you in case some vicious, ravening fence-post leaps at you, won't we, Mittle?" Eranric turned back to Maena, who to his pleasure was looking much more at her ease. "I've been trying to iron out the worst of my language," he admitted ruefully, and grinned. "Would you be understanding me if I said I'd no thought to stir your criddle, and I'd scadge along down to the housen for to see what we'd about us?"

Maena laughed uncomfortably, not quite sure what to do. Her blush came back, and she lowered her eyes.

Eranric saw her colour, and sensed that a shift back to firmer ground was probably a good idea. "Where are we taking her, then?"

“There are some fields about half a mile away. My parents are working on their horses a bit farther away.” She smiled. “Shall we go then?”

He gestured towards the door. "Lead the way, milady."
nelenata
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: January 24, 2007 11:59
((*prods thread* By the way, would anyone be interested in playing a dwarf/dwarven masons? It's just a thought - dwarven masons and an Elven architecht could be interesting working together. ))

----

The man's brow furrowed. "So I pay how much?"

Rosien pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled slowly, beseeching the Valar to grant her patience. She had spent ten minutes attempting to explain this to the master mason, and the splitting headache she had developed over the long afternoon was not improving her temper. "Master Lachstan. Please listen carefully. I am not at leisure to squander time, and I am sure you are in a similar position.

"We cannot simply begin to quarry the local granite; it is unfair on the locals who rely on it for trade. It must come by boat from across the lake, which is why is costs a little more and will take time to arrive."

"But there's granite this side of the lake!"

Rosien closed her eyes again and gritted her teeth, wishing fervently that she'd never begun this. For pity's sake, it wasn't difficult! "Because," she said, "it is nonetheless cheaper to transport it across the water and pay for it than it would be to mine it ourselves on this side. It is difficult to transport stone by land."

"But --"

She heaved a sigh. "Look. Here is a proposition: you give me the advance fee, I place the order, and you take my word for it that I am doing this as quickly and cheaply as possible."

"It can't be cheaper --"

"It is cheaper!" Rosien fixed him with her level look that was almost a glare, but not quite. "I assure you, I have spent more hours than I would wish to in working this out! Take my word for it. It is the best way!"

Still looking dubious, the mason placed the fee on the makeshift table amongst the piles of scribbled-on parchment and the chalk-scrawled slates. Rosien had lost no time in setting up a makeshift office in a tent, and the place was in a state of organised chaos. Despite what she had said to Arkaniel, Rosien would be profoundly glad when she had a proper building and could file things properly; she hated not being able to lay her hands on a document. She herself looked faintly incongruous amongst the apparent disorder, a well dressed young woman, transparently of noble birth, sitting at a 'desk' made of an old door and two piles of bricks.

"Thank you," she said, making a subtle gesture towards the door with the end of her quill. "I will let you know the exact projected date of arrival when I hear." The tone of her voice was an obvious dismissal, and he left with alacrity.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, Rosien slumped forwards onto her arms and groaned aloud. She could never, never have been a tutor. People like that made her want to kill things. She sat up and began to make strangling motions in the air in an attempt to relieve some of the exasperation without causing too much havoc among the piles of documents. 'Stupid - thickheaded -

Her violent fantasies regarding slow-thinking masons were interrupted by a tap at the tent flap. 'Sweet Elbereth, go away!' she thought. She was tired, she was thoroughly fed up and she wanted to vanish off somewhere she could nurse her headache in peace.

------

OOC: Any takers to be snapped at? If anyone wants to get off on the wrong foot with Rosien, this is probably a good time to meet her.

[Edited on 25/1/2007 by nelenata]
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: June 24, 2007 11:07
OOC: Just in case this one can be brougth back to life

IC:
Just as Reycha had been longing to finally reach their destination, now she wished they would still be travelling. Everything was a mess, people were hurrying each his or her own way, doing this and that, sometimes shouting at each other or disputing loudly reagrding the way things needed to be done. Suddenly everybody had turned into an expert. Arkaniel had his hands full of work to do dealing with that and trying to keep things under control. And, there was apparently a thief or two rummaging the things of the people. The wardens were keeping their eyes open, still there were too little of them to guard the entire settlement, as it was rappidly expanding, while people were occupying the ruins of their liking to be their future homes.
Moreover, it was hot. Reycha had not seen any sign of clouds for days, not even speaking about rain. The heat was making her head heavy with headache, and there was a persistant ringing in her ears. And the additional heat from the oven didn't do anything to help. Reycha was in charge of a group of women who were cooking lunch and dinner for the workers rebuilding the houses, and she spent almost the entire day in the makeshift kitchen that had been built in hurry.
Another problem was that the nearest wells had fallen to ruins, too, and while they were being cleaned form the fallen debris - or, more precisely, being dug again - the water supply had to be brought from afar.
No wonder Reycha barely saw her husband these days. He sometimes spent the night out in the wild, leading a group of land-researchers in order to get to know the surroundings, and when he did sleep at home - if you can call "home" a large stone building with only two rooms habitable - all he was capable of was devouring his dinner and nearly falling in his bed. Reycha was worried about Arkaniel, for he was working on the brink of exhaustion. But she also knew that there was nobody else to do the job he was doing.
However, she disliked the way she felt herself. Reycha was getting more and more nervous and impatient, starting a quarrel even out of the most insignificant matter. Marim was also somewhere out, running with the boys and exploring the surroundings, and Reycha kept scolding him for that. However, the boy always managed to sneak away, only to return home for dinner. Reycha felt she was beginning to give up, letting him come and go as he would, out of fear that the boy would begin to avoid returning home.
Then a better thought occured to her. There was that girl, Maena, who was helping her sometimes. Why not aske her to keep an eye on Marim, for Reycha herself had no time for that.
So she was walking through the streets with Marim at her side towards the place she knew Maena was staying. Or - she had theought she knew, for suddenly Reycha realized she had never been so far away on her own. After asking a couple of people (who couldn't help her, being all over their heads in thoir work), she was directed to a meakeshif tent where a woman *who might know* was to be found.
Reycha saw a man exit and decided to try her luck one more time. She tapped slightly on the entrance flap, but no one answered. She tapped harder, and finally a polite "Enter" invited her in. Reycha ducked under the flap, pulling Marim after her, and found herself in front of a beautiful ginger-haired woman. Even in the given surroundings she looked aristocratic and impressive, having *that* air around her Reycha was always intimidated by during the rare occasions she had gone with Arkaniel to a party of the nobility od Minas Tirith. The woman looked at her questoningly, clearly waiting to be informed about the purpose of the visit.
Reycha cleared her throat.
"Good ... erm.. day, lady..."
Wait! Wasn't Reycha herself the Lady of the settlement? Ufff.... It was a role she was not prepared for at all.

"I was told you could inform me where I could find the family that raises horses, as nobody seemed to know exactly where thoy were stayng," Reycha managed to explain the purpose of her visit.
We still remember, we who dwell In this far land, beneath the trees The starlight on the Western seas...
In the Realm of Ulmo
nelenata
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: June 28, 2007 04:37
((*grins* Cat-fight, anybody? Meow... ))

Rosien kept her face politely neutral, but she was smirking inwardly. ‘Lady? Dear oh dear. Someone doesn’t know the first thing about her new status.’ Modes of address were vital in the game of power, and the girl had just handed Rosien all the advantage of rank that she might have had. ‘And if you don’t know that, I wonder what you *do* know.’ Not just a peasant, but not very bright to boot. What did the woman think Rosien was – some sort of messenger? She was sure that Arkaniel had made records of where people were staying. Had it not even occurred to her to check them?

‘Merciful Eru, I don’t have time for this,’ she thought irritably, while keeping her face unruffled despite the throbbing pain in her temples, which wasn’t improving her mood. “I believe there are several people who work with horses,” she said after a finely calculated pause. She raised her eyebrows just a fraction. “I don’t suppose you could give me a description?”

Reycha narrowed her eyes. That woman had an air around her that made her feel intimidated. And she surely didn't like that feeling. Moreover, although the attitude of the ginger-head was ever the polite and welcoming one, there was something about her that didn't manage to convince Reycha about her sincerity. And her words were nothing but politely helpful.

She wasn't just telling her to go and look elsewhere. But still, Reycha felt a sting in her heart. Reycha summoned her dignity and stood proud. "They are Rohirrim, parents and a full-grown daughter. I don't expect you to know them personally, I am just asking you whether you are informed about the whereabouts of the stables. Once I get there, I will surely single out the family I need right now."

“I believe that a great many who work with horses hail from Rohan,” said Rosien with the air of a light, offhand remark. 'Sweet Lady Starkindler, do you think I keep an inventory of all the families in this place? There must be at least as many stables as there are families from Rohan who raise horses! Do you think they grow in clusters, like bramble bushes?' And Rosien knew of at least three families who had many horses, though she had no idea whether they raised them for a living, or whether the beasts were merely for trade.

“I know of perhaps three families who could meet that description – my lady,” she said, the pause before the title barely perceptible. “As far as I know, at least two of them are settled over three miles apart. Know you the names of any of the families, my lady?” This accompanied by another fractional raise of the eyebrows in a semblance of polite enquiry. “I fear I am not sufficiently acquainted with any of them to know the size of their families. If the heads of household have had any dealings with me, I may have a record.”

Why did Reycha had the feeling she was being deliberately laughed at? As if she were on a far lower step of the society than the young woman in front of her. 'By Luthien that Fair, pull yourself together, woman! Who is the Lady here, after all?' Reycha felt awkward. She was usually very kind and caring to the people around her, and this kind of conversations were so long forgotten...

The ginger-head reminded Reycha of the ex-mother-in-law, and the young woman suddenly decided to use the lesson she had learned so long ago. "The family's father's name is Maenor, if my memory serves me well," Reycha said with a cold smile. "Please, do check your records for this name, if you believe that it would help you remembering which part of the settlement thoy could have chosen to stay. I will wait while you do so. If you are unable to help me, however, I will be grateful if you just admitted that and saved my time."

By Eru, she sounded just as her ex-mother-in-law! Reycha hated herself, hated to hear herself talk like that to another human being. But it was as if that noble had managed to bring out the worst Reycha had inside. And she hated the ginger-head for that. For making her be mean. Reycha hoped the woman would just tell her to leave, so that she could escape the tent and her presence. She held Marim's hand tightly, and the boy looked at his mother questioningly.

'Is this your idea of bringing in the heavy cavalry?' Rosien wondered. Though tempted to laugh at the idea that this was meant to be disconcerting, she had to respect Lady Reycha for making the effort. Most in her position would have given up by now. But please, my dear, don’t try to play me at my own game. Rosien was torn between the desire to win this little sparring match, and the wish to claim ignorance and get her out of there – her head felt fit to split.

Of course, competition won. It always did, and it always would. “Certainly I will look, my lady – now that I know what to look for,” she said lightly, keeping the barest hint of emphasis on the last part of the sentence. Rosien knew the rules of this game, and those were to appear to do everything in your power. The question was, where to look? “Now,” she murmured, surveying the chaos of slates and parchment, “what would a horseman be ordering?” Hay… oats, perhaps… She looked over her shoulder to where a curtain concealed the entrance into an adjoining tent. “Galdin?” she called.

After a moment, a tall, broad man with brown hair appeared from behind the curtain. My lady?” he addressed her, with a respectful nod to lady Reycha.

“Galdin, do you happen to know if we have had any orders for hay? Oats? Anything to do with horses?”

He rubbed his chin. “Yes, I believe so.”

Rosien glanced around the tent. Some of the piles were half as tall as she was. “Is it worth asking where you put the records?”

He chuckled. “Unless someone has moved it, it ought to be somewhere in…” He cast around for a moment before pointing to a pile on Rosien’s right. “That pile. Probably near the bottom.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the pile, turned it upside down, and put it on her desk. “This may take a moment or two,” she warned Lady Reycha. Galdin nodded to both of them before disappearing once more.

Rosien flicked through the pages, which were covered in writing in a variety of hands, ranging from the occasional sheet in her own neat, slanting script, to the near-illegible scrawl of Galdin. She suppressed a sigh and closed her eyes briefly – her headache was making the letters blur as she tried to decipher a particularly ill-penned record. Galdin was an administrator and organiser extraordinaire, but his penmanship left much to be desired. She scanned the page, eyes narrowed in what was not quite a wince. She would be having words with Galdin. “Ah. Here we are. Maenor. To be delivered to…” She frowned as she tried to make it out. “Whoever wrote this should be shot,” she muttered to herself. “Ah. There is no street name as yet, but I can give you directions.” She cast a glance at the boy, who looked suspiciously quiet.

Marim had noticed something interesting. Beside the entrance, there was yet another pile of boxes, but it wasn't the pile that had caught the boy's interest. It was a wooden cup with a strange engraving on it.

Carefully, not to draw her mother's attention, the boy moved near the cup. Luckily, Reycha let him withdraw his hand from hers, first warning her son with the "just don't try anything" look.

Suddenly he felt the red woman look at him, and froze, putting on his face the most innocent expression he was capable of. She looked convinced by that and returned to her book. Now, it was time. Marim reached up as high as he could and fished the cup off the box pile.

For a second it dangled dangerously on the edge, then slipped in the waiting pair of hands.
With relief, Marim gasped, holding the cup safely. However, his feet were not as lucky as were his hands.The boy tripped over a small sack and fell with a squeak. As it turned out, there was a liquid in the cup, and it spilt all over the red lady's dress just the level of her knees.

“Oh, for –!” Involuntarily, Rosien let fly with a very ripe sailorly curse as scalding hot mint tea soaked through the fabric of her gown, the pain bringing tears to her eyes – reflexively she jerked away, and promptly knocked over the pile of papers at her elbow. She winced, not just with the pain, and hoped that Lady Reycha wasn’t familiar with sailors’ expressions. She did not want to go into the story of exactly where she had learnt that one.

Reycha's jaw dropped when she heard the noble swear as strongly as the lowest men in tavern. With large eyes she stared at the ginger-head. 'Where in Middle-earth has she learned THAT?' The papers went flying over Marim's head as the boy crouched on the floor. Hearing the woman's gasp of pain Reycha rushed to her boy, took his face in her hands and turned it hastily towards her. What a relief!

"Thank Eru," she muttered, seeing that his face and hands were all right. "Thank Eru," she repeated, embracing her son, who still hadn't realized what he had done. She pushed the boy away. "Marim, apologize right away to the lady!" she ordered, and the boy whispered his excuses, afraid of the red-lady's look she gave him. "I am sorry," Reycha felt really bad about the accident. "Can I help you with anything? Should I get a healer to look at you?" But the noble stubbornly refused.

“I suppose,” said Rosien through gritted teeth while refusing to let the tears fall, “that that was waiting to happen.” Very deliberately, she picked up the cup and set it on the desk. “Clearly I need to childproof this place if we are to meet often.” She directed one of her level, almost-glare-but-not-quite looks at the boy. “Though you might be well-advised to take a little care when you investigate things without permission that are not quite within your reach. They are likely there for a reason.”

She bent down to sweep the fallen papers into her arms – behind the privacy of her desk, she bit her lip and let the tears run over for a second. Estë’s graces, it hurt. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and emerged a second later, composed.

Hearing the ginger-head's remark [about the children-proof tent], Reycha felt part of her guilt melt away.

"I will make sure we meet as rarely as possible," she said, turned on her heel and walked away. Only outside the tent did she realise she hadn't gotten the address of Maenor. "Oh, bother," she muttered to herself. She would have to continue he search.
CoNFuSeD_Elessar
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: July 05, 2007 06:47
[OOC: Over the next few posts, I’ll be adding some characters, like the Dwarven mason, Kion, so if anyone likes him or thinks he should become a more permanent character, let me know and I’ll work on it. Also, the part were I interact with Reycha is cowritten with Nifredil]

Ever since they arrived in Annuminas, time seemed to fly by, like a grain of sand in the wind…

Arkaniel’s days were filled to the brim. He had to oversee all the work being done, which was extremely time-consuming, as one might expect. He had to arrange and appoint tasks to the several teams of labourers. Each of the teams was appointed to reconstruct houses in a different quarter of the city. They had cleared most of the debris from the street by now. Most of this debris was salvaged for re-use in the reconstruction.

A large group of the carpenters, with the help of many aides, were already setting up frames, support beams and floors in the houses, with wood gathered by the lumberjacks. The other carpenters were helping the farmers building their houses and barns from scratch. Some of the farmhouses were as good as finished and were already being furnished. As soon as the farmers could get their lands, they could start their business.

Arkaniel had assigned four scouts to draw up an accurate map of the city and the surrounding area. Two clerks would plot out lands that were going to be given to each farmer. He made sure every farmer had more than enough land to make a good living and to have enough surplus so that the city wasn’t that dependent on trade for food.

One of the squares close to the center of the city was turned into a large open-roofed forge. Every blacksmith was there, swamped in work. Many were repairing broken tools or metal objects found in the ruins. Others were refilling the fast slinking supplies of metal building materials, like nails. A couple of blacksmith, who had their mastery in forging weapons or armour, were providing the new recruits of the City Guard with armour and weapons.

The masons were doing a fine job. Especially the Dwarves excelled at it (off course). Allthough the difference in skill wasn’t that evident in rebuilding rather plain houses, the Dwarves certainly progressed faster and were more efficient. For that reason, Arkaniel decided to put a Dwarf in charge of the Mason’s Guild.

***

Koin, son of Doin, a nephew of the famous Gloin, was the Dwarf put in charge of all the masons. The elderly Dwarf, a Master Mason from the Lonely Mountain, had joined the settlers from the very beginning in Minas Tirith. In the White City, at the 9th Anniversary Celebration of King Elessar’s coronation and the rebirth of the Kingdom of Gondor, he had met a young Gondorian nobleman, named Arkaniel. During the feast, they talked and Arkaniel told him about his plans of rebuilding Annuminas, Capital of the Lost Kingdom of the North. The Dwarf had been very interested in the project.

Ever since the War of the Ring had ended, the Dwarven Realms had known a time of peace. By now, little more than nine years later, all the damage from centuries of warfare was repaired and the Realms had been restored to their former greatness. There wasn’t much work left now, for the many masons of the Dwarves. Therefore it was a quick and easy decision for Koin to join Arkaniel’s quest.
Now he was here, supervising masons from all over Middle-Earth and rebuilding a large city practically from scratch. There was work for many years to come and yet most of it needed to be done as fast as possible, so laziness wasn’t tolerated. He didn’t cut anyone slack, neither Dwarf or Man. Many now feared his sharp tongue, so much in fact, they secretly nicknamed him “the Lash”.
Yet his strictness delivered results, for after only little more than a week, the first houses were near finished, while most others started taking shape. It would still take at least a month or three before they were finished, but they had the weather in their advantage for now.

Yesterday, Lord Arkaniel had told him about the Elf Halhigil, and his project, namely the Palace. He would go take a look today at what that pointy-ear was doing and would then decide if his project was worth enough to overlook the Elf’s presence…

***

Moments ago, one of the scouts working on a city map reported to his lord that they had found several large warehouses intact and ready for use. This news was very welcome and Arkaniel decided to immediately place orders with the different traders to fill them up with supplies. He had just ordered Pipeweed and beer from the Hobbit trader, Pim, or Pemiander Took, and different kinds of ore and specialty stone from the Dwarven trader, Bain. He was now heading towards Rosien, who already was the most prominent trader in Annuminas.

As he made his way through the streets, greeting several people, Arkaniel’s thoughts drifted to his wife, wondering what she was doing now. He realized he was somewhat neglecting her since they arrived. There was just so much work needing to be done, so much to think of… It was exhausting, and his family payed the price. He only got home to eat and to sleep…
He promised himself to change that and to go home early today, to spend some time with his family. He needed them to do this, especially his wife. She was his rock to which he could hold on…

He reached the small square were Rosien’s office was located. Well, what one could call an office in the current state of the City. Just as his eyes set on her tent, he noticed Reycha, his beloved wife, and their son, standing in front of it, looking a little lost. All thoughts of placing orders, working and even breathing left his mind as his heart was overwhelmed with the love he felt for them. He just stood there and felt himself become nervous, like a young man courting a beautiful lady would feel, the lady in this case being his beautiful Reycha…

Reycha sighed. What now? She let her eyes wander around, looking for any person who might possibly know the whereabouts of the Rohirrim family. She didn't notice the silent figure standing nearby, however. It was Marim who spotted Arkaniel.
"Mom, look! It's dad!" the boy shook her hand energically.
"Where?" she turned her head this way and that.
"There!" Marim pointed and suddenly ran off. "Dad! Dad!" he called joyfully, running straight in Arkaniel's arms.

Arkaniel came to his senses when he felt Marim throw himself into his arms. He lifted the boy up, which became harder than it used to be… His son was really growing up.
“Hey Marim, I didn’t expect to find you here… What trouble did your mother get into this time?”
He winked at Reycha.
“Good Morning, my heart”, he directed at his wife. He didn’t know why, but he did feel a small blush blossoming on his cheeks and he couldn’t help his silly grin at seeing her approach him.

Reycha slowly walked closer to greet her husband. The previous bad mood caused by the quarrel with the ginger-head faded in Arkaniel's warm smile. Reycha smiled back at him.
"Good Morning. What a relief that I found you," she lifted on her tip-toes to give him a small kiss on his cheek. "Your beard is quite sharp," she wrinkled her nose, as her tender lips met his several days old stubble.

“You don’t like it? I thought it added to my ruggedly good looks…”, He whispered in her ear, “Well, guess I have to shave it off then.”
Arkaniel tried to hold Marim in one arm, so he could wrap his other one around his wife, but the boy was too heavy for that. So he put his son down and ruffled his Marim’s hair, saying: “You mister, are far too old to be carried by your dad.”
Finally his hands free, he took both of Reycha’s hands and pulled her close enough to kiss her softly on the lips…
“So, what can I help you with, My Lady?”

With Arkaniel's lips so close to her Reycha found it difficult to think. A wave of tenderness towards him flooded over her, and she was just dying to caress her husband's handsome face. As her hands were already held captive, Reycha simply pressed her soft cheek to his. She sighed happily.
"You could just help me by being near..." Reycha smiled lovingly at Arkaniel, "you gorgeous Lord."
She giggled and confessed. "I was just looking for Maena, but I couldn't find her, and then I came asking here and was sent to that horrible woman's office there" she motioned with her head toward's Rosien's tent.

Her smile sent hundreds of butterflies through stomach, just like she did all those years ago. He was falling for her all over again… It was certainly strange what a little while without any real contact with his wife could do to a man. Perhaps his sort of friendship with Rosien that started after leaving Bree had something to do with it as well… ‘Wait’, he thought, ‘Rosien…horrible woman…that office?’
“Really? I thought Rosien was rather nice…”

Reychas eyes flapped open. She moved away from Arkaniel to stare incredulously at him.
" Rather nice?! You... You think that THAT woman is rather nice? She was... not exactly rude, but..." she struggled trying to put her feelings in words. "Her words were insulting. It was clear that she was feeling superior over me and her attitude was unmistakeable!" Reycha's pale cheeks turned crimson due to the emotion.
Only then did Arkaniel's words dawn on her. She narrowed her eyes. "You mean - you know her?" Reycha asked jealously.

“Off course I know her…”, Arkaniel responded, confused. Didn’t she know he knew everyone in Annuminas, after all, he made that list, talking to everyone personally. “She is a Noble Lady from Pelagiad, and daughter of one of the richest and most famous traders in Gondor. We met at the party in Bree and talked a bit that night.”
Then the rest of what Reycha said finally hit home, but before he could say something…

"Oh, you met at the party in Bree?" Reycha's voice quivered with emotion. "Quite fine, I understand." She took a step away from him, escaping his embrace.

“Reycha, it wasn’t like that”, Arkaniel sighed before resuming, “we just talked and nor from that conversation, nor from later ones I got the impression she was anything like you described.” He fidgeted a bit, having lost confidence now that he seemed to have hurt Reycha. He nervously took a step closer to his wife and took one of her hands again.
“I just meant to say, I didn’t know she could be like THAT, not that I don’t believe you and I am really sorry if you got that impression.”

"But she WAS like that!" Reycha exclaimed, tears in her eyes. "So, do you want to tell me I'm lying?" However, she did not pull her hand out of his.

Arkaniel was torn between conflicting emotions. He felt so much love for his wife and he couldn’t stand to see her cry. On the other hand he felt a growing anger and iciness towards a certain redheaded woman. She must have really been terrible to have this effect on his wife. He pulled Reycha closer and wrapped his arms protectively around her.
“Hey…”, He said softly, “I know you wouldn’t lie to me. I will take care of the matter.”
He bent closer and slowly kissed a tear from her cheek…

Reycha cast a disbelieving glance at him, but soon her expression softened and, with a sniff, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.
"I am sorry," she said in a shaking voice, "I didn't mean to sound like that. It is just that.... Oh, nevermind."
She took a deep breath. It was so good just to be in his arms. "Do you know where I can find Maena?"

“Sure, I know where they are. I’ll bring you to her house.” Arkaniel however, didn’t move, he just kept embracing his wife, relishing the feeling of her in his arms.

"And when will you do it?" Reycha asked in a small voice, lifting her face to look at her husband, and her heart tremble. He was so handsome, so understanding, so tender, so... "I love you," she whispered.

“You are an impatient one, I wonder why I married you… oh Right, because I love you, too.”
He kissed her again, tenderly, but then slowly broke the embrace. He held on to one of her hands and took one of Marim’s hands with the other and started walking leisurely to Maena’s home.
“It is just outside the City wall’s. Her parents are building a horse farm there, to continue their family business.”

Reycha blushed at Arkaniel's words and thought just how happy she was to be married to him. Remembering the time she had lived in Bree.... No, she must erase that part of her life from her memory. It felt so prefect - walking like that, with Arkaniel and Marim, as if nobody had to hurry, they were just enjoying the feeling of being a family.
Soon, they were outside the walls and nearing a bunch of medium-sized buildings.
"This is where Maena lives?" Reycha asked.

“Yes indeed. Well, at least till the Palace is inhabitable, then she probably has to move over out of convenience.”
Arkaniel wasn’t sure what to do now. He really needed to go back to work now. He had to place that order with Rosien and have a talk to her about how to treat people, especially people that were his family. On the other hand, he would like to stay with his family a little while longer…
“Well, I… er… I have to go now. I need to pay a visit to a certain ginger-haired woman. I promise I’ll be home early this evening. I missed you the past couple of days.”
He kissed Reycha once more, this time more passionate however.

"OK, I'll be waiting for you," Reycha kissed him back just as passionately. "And be careful there, all right?" she said with a hint of warning in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, my love, there is only one woman for me, and she is standing right in front of me. And hey, I faced a millions strong army of Mordor, surely I can survive some haughty noblewoman.”
He stroked her cheek while saying this.
“I’ll see you this evening. Have fun you two, and Marim, take care of your mother for me, will you?”
He bent down and kissed his son on the cheek, before heading of towards Rosien’s tent, determined to set things straight.


[OOC: Well, I guess this opens up for some serious interaction:
Rosien-Arkaniel, Koin-Halhigil, perhaps Koin-Talkan (urgh, Nel's mason, can't seem to remember his name longer than a minute after reading it ), Reycha-Maena. my next post, I'll try adding some characters or a plot that could involve Allis, Maenor and Sorne, eranric and Talkan some more as well. (perhaps a mystery or something like that to gather all of us?]
nelenata
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: July 11, 2007 01:52
((This post was co-written by Confused and me. ))

Rosien was slumped forwards with her head resting on her arms, willing her headache to leave her alone, and hoping fervently that nobody else was going to bother her this afternoon. Her nerves felt as though they were being rubbed with sand – she knew that even the bare level of civility she had given Lady Reycha would soon be beyond her.

Why did people always choose the worst time to appear and ask stupid questions without giving her the details she needed to answer them? Rohirrim that deal with horses, for pity’s sake. Rosien had half expected her to helpfully say they were blond. It was a good thing she hadn’t, or she might have had to do something drastic.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Why was she in such a foul mood? It wasn’t her moon time – or shouldn’t have been – or she would have retreated by now and let Galdin deal with people face-to-face. She was under no illusions as to her fitness for company those few days a month. It was probably the heat. Heat and rampant stupidity on the parts of others. Rosien hated heat. Cold weather she could withstand with fortitude, but in the hot sun she wilted like a parched flower. Speaking of heat, her leg was still throbbing. She wondered briefly if she ought to put something on it, but dismissed the idea with a gloomy look at the amount of work she had left to do. It would keep.


Arkaniel was heading towards Rosien’s tent, as he had done before he found his family standing there earlier. Those orders had to be placed as soon as possible, for the supplies would at least take a month or two to get here, even by the fast Gondorian trade vessels, for the orders still had to get all the way to Pelagiad.

Another point on his agenda was to have a good talking to with that darn woman. He knew that she could be a bit haughty, having witnessed her behaviour towards the other ‘ladies’ at the feast in Bree, but to treat other people like they were lower than her, especially when that wasn’t the case, was intolerable. Didn’t they have a conversation about equality and leadership before they arrived here at Annuminas?

Finally he reached the white tent, where the ginger-haired ‘lady’ had taken office. He knew that she was important, for she represented one of the most important and richest trade families and that he also had to show some respect, due to her nobility, but he couldn’t help but feeling a certain iciness towards her, and it showed slightly in his greeting.

“Good afternoon, dear Lady, I trust business is well on this fine day?”

When Arkaniel walked in, it was all she could do not to groan aloud. Go away, she thought irritably. I do not want to talk to *anyone * just now. Not even you. And especially not if you’re looking at me like that. What have I done now? “Well enough, thank you, my lord,” she replied, too tired and fed up to even attempt to sound enthusiastic about her job. She had rapidly discovered that what she had taken on – essentially kick-starting an entire economy – was hard work as she had never known it before. And Rosien knew how to work. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I need to place some orders with your company. Earlier today, we found several intact warehouses. I plan to fill them with additional supplies to guarantee we have enough to even cover emergencies like storms or bad harvests. Perhaps some general supplies as well. Also, I think I could rent you one of the warehouses for your business. You are after all the biggest trader around here. I think about a 100 tonnes of flour would be a nice start. Furthermore, I think about 150 barrels of wine, 50 crates of both Oranges and lemons, 20 crates of dried fruit. 100 sacks of corn, and perhaps a nice amount of seasoned timber.”

Rosien quickly noted down the list in her neat, slanted writing. "How urgently are these things required, my lord?" she asked. "Fresh fruit is difficult to transport - it must be shipped off while still very unripe to arrive edible, and I am afraid I am ignorant of the growing seasons for lemons. I dare say I could find someone who knows, though."

“It should arrive here at the end of summer, at latest the beginning of autumn. By then it will already be cold enough around here for the fruits to remain fresh in the warehouses, without rotting. Well, that being settled, are you interested in renting that one warehouse? I believe it is about 25 yards wide, 50 long and overall 4 yards high.”

In spite of herself, Rosien smiled briefly. "I would say that I would be hard pressed to fill such a vast space, but I fear that would be tempting fate!" At the moment, profits could go hang as far as she was concerned - any more work, and both she and Galdin would drop dead. "But yes, I am very interested; such a building would be perfect. Where is it located, and what rent would you charge, my lord?"

“It is about one block away from the largest dock. About rent, I think a hundred silver crowns a month should do. If you accept, I’ll ask the scribe in charge of the city’s finances to draw up a contract.”

Rosien nodded. "Yes, I accept." She shifted position a little, beginning to feel faintly queasy. This did not bode well. "May I help you with anything else, my lord?"

"Ah yes, I've been wondering about your behaviour towards my wife, earlier today", Arkaniel replied, no longer able to keep the ice out of his voice.

Rosien raised her eyebrows slightly in genuine surprise. Did the woman go crying to her husband every time someone was a little short with her? It wasn't as if she'd been worse than a little impatient, and the Valar knew she'd had reason enough to be that. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

“You should treat her with the respect she deserves, and like any noble is taught to do. Didn’t we discuss several days ago about how to treat people of all ranks? I got the impression you thought the same things as me about the subject, but clearly I was mistaken, for you treated my wife, who is also your lady, as some nobles treat their lowest servants. Does this refresh your mind?”

Oh, for pity’s sake. She wondered what kind of story of confrontation Lady Reycha had managed to manufacture out of their -- admittedly rather tense -- earlier meeting. Those lowest servants were lucky if their masters treated them with such civility. Rosien knew first-hand that many (including plenty in her own family) would tell a servant to his face if they thought he was being stupid.

Truly the woman must be a queen of exaggeration as well as dull-witted, or else ridiculously sensitive. "I had no thought to treat Lady Reycha disrespectfully on the grounds of birth, my lord," which had the ring of truth about it -- it *was* true. Rosien didn't look down on her because she was low-born, she looked down on her because she asked stupid questions at an ill-chosen moment. "I am sorry if I gave offence -- I own that I may have been a little impatient, for which I apologise." This was also true. Her intention had been more subtle, not to take out her bad mood on someone who was clearly too oversensitive to bear even a little sharpness. She had got off lightly -- in Rosien's eyes, she had no earthly reason to be trembling like an aspen in the breeze.

Speaking of trembling in the breeze, Rosien herself was beginning to feel distinctly wobbly. Oh Estë… not this, not now! It wasn't even the right date for her monthlies -- The thought stopped short at the sudden, violent pain that flared sharply in her lower abdomen. Apparently it was. She managed a weak smile through gritted teeth for Arkaniel – “Would you excuse me a moment, my lord?” – and fled through the curtain to the adjoining tent, which in turn led onto another tent, which was where she slept. Sorting herself out with the speed borne of urgency, she inhaled sharply and doubled over as another violent cramp hit her. Oh Estë, and she had the dates wrong, so she hadn’t taken anything to ease it… She was sorely tempted by the tiny bottle of poppy juice that lay hidden in a box in her trunk, but it was addictive and difficult to get hold of, so she tried to avoid using it if she could. Besides, it made her drowsy, and unfortunately she needed her wits for the next few minutes. Later, she promised herself with a wince, carefully checking her skirts for any bloodstains. No, they were clean.

Rosien groaned and resisted the urge to swear foully – canvas wasn’t known for keeping sound out. That explained an awful lot. She didn't *need* this now! And especially not when called upon to be diplomatic. Polite, apologetic and charming were the things she least wanted to be at present. She was much more inclined to snarl at everyone until they went away. Catching a glimpse of her pale reflection in the glass, she pinched her cheeks to give herself a little colour before returning quickly. "My apologies," she murmured under her breath, willing herself not to start blushing.

Arkaniel was unsure what was happening with Rosien. She did say she was sorry, but something about the manner in which she said didn't feel right. On the other hand, she was clearly showing signs of some illness. He just didn't know what to do now. He wasn't inclined to forgive her that easily, but he couldn't just berate her if she was truly ill at the moment.
When she did indeed return shortly, she seemed to have lost much of her demeanour. Somehow, his concern overtook his anger. After all, her earlier behaviour didn't mean she deserved becoming violently ill. "Are you all right?" he asked finally, his anger clearly seeping away, yet still lingering under his concern

Rosien, if anything, was startled by the sudden display of concern, even if there was still a sharp edge underneath it. Sympathy was not something she really knew how to deal with, not often being the recipient of it. Or the giver, come to that. "I -- thank you, I am fine," she said, resisting the desire to curl up into a ball and growl at him until he went away. "I'm a little tired, is all," she said with another faint, not very convincing smile, and hoped to the Valar she wasn’t going to throw a dizzy spell. "The heat." The one thing she needed less than people was fussing people. If she had been her sister, she would have milked the concern for all it was worth, and thus probably secure a pardon for herself. But Rosien didn’t have that kind of bravado. It wasn’t in her to beg for sympathy.

He looked a little dubious, but seemed to accept what she said as the hardness came back into his face. “You have no right to treat my wife the way you did,” he said. “And to my ears you do not sound particularly sorry. You will treat her with the respect you owe her. And you also owe her an apology.”

I owe her no such thing. What had that little she-dog told him? “I have said I was sorry, my lord. What else can I say? I would gladly offer your wife an apology, but it would help if I knew for what I was apologising.” Rosien couldn’t prevent a certain coolness from coming into her tone to match his own. “For I truly cannot see what I have done that would merit such a reaction.”

“Are you suggesting that my wife fabricated this conversation?”

The words were even, but Rosien did not miss the dangerous tone quivering underneath it. “My lord, I do not suggest any such thing.” She might think it, but she wasn’t fool enough to suggest it. She sighed wearily and wished he would go away. “What I suggest is that there has been some misunderstanding on both sides. The day is hot, we are all overworked and I think there are few of us who are as good-tempered as usual. If you are one of the few, my lord, then I envy you, for I do not pretend to possess a great measure of patience in this weather. Lady Reycha came in asking for the address of a family. I do not keep a list of addresses, and it was some time before I was given the information needed to find the records. She seemed to think I was being deliberately unhelpful. “ Rosien shrugged and gestured at the near-chaos. “You can see what kind of state this place is in. I did my best, but apparently not quickly enough.” She did not mention the peppermint tea. She didn’t feel in the least bad about snapping at the boy now, but she probably would once her foul mood had cleared off.
Cirion2
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: August 05, 2007 01:13
[OOC: hey everyone i know it has been a loong, loong time since i last posted. But lets see if i can get back on the horse ]

Cirion had spent the entire afternoon organising debris and unlike many of the other workers he still remained fresh. As a boy his father had pushed him to do continuous training and discipline, 12 hours a day and 6 days a week and twelve years later this had resulted in Cirion being at the peak of fitness levels and endurance for someone his age and size. Even though he had hated the training then he was thankful for it now and even more thankful for letting him have the seventh day off. Because it was on those days off he had the most fun of his childhood.

Cirion sat astride a dark horse which trotted slowly round the crumbling outer boundaries of Annuminas. He was using the time he had on this break to survey the surroundings. Despite this new place being welcoming and inviting, Cirion always kept a cautious eye on his surroundings a habit he had learned to use when in a foreign place. In an unknown place dangers could leap out from every angle and place. The sun was setting and the shadows were lengthening under the trees. Soon he would have to check on the settlers and help them with various chores before departing for the evening meal and more work. With a slight grin on his face he decided he would go for a short ride, when he heard laughter ringing from across the plain, a laugh he knew well. He turned his face into the sun and stared across the grassy meadow to see two figures; one a small man making humorous, exaggerated gestures and the other a young, golden haired lady astride a grey horse. The sun glinted off Alaroen’s hair and he smiled at this while trotting towards them.

“Good evening Grun, going for a late walk?” He questioned with a smirk on his face, the kind you have when talking among close friends. He dared a glance at Alaroen who had a look of exaggerated, annoyance, no hint of the merriment, that was just present was evident on her face. Grun who clapped his hands with a grin spoke.
“Yes Big Friend, Grun was just telling lady, how Grun save you. Stupid, big man get tied up and Grun have to save day.”
Both Cirion and Grun broke into laughter, though Alaroen just sat there concentrating on keeping the look of annoyance upon her face. Cirion then turned to Alaroen and spoke.
“And my lady how is your dwelling going?”
As if she just suddenly noticed Alaroen looked over at Cirion and spoke in a formal tone.
“Well it is coming along nicely and Grun is turning out to be a great help but then again I am in no hurry, I quite like sleeping out under the stars, in a small tent.”

“I gathered as much.” Cirion commented with a grin on his face. The period that came next involved a long silence. All three stood and sat there waiting for the other to speak. Alaroen turned her face slightly away from Cirion and her eyes darted in every direction but the soldier’s face, Cirion was staring directly at her with a slight grin on his face whilst absently fiddling with the hilt of his sword and Grun the only one not on a horse, looked up at both of them glancing from the uncomfortable face of Alaroen to the embarrassed expression of Cirion inwardly marvelling at the behaviour of some people. After a long and awkward moment Cirion rubbing the back of his head in an embarrassed fashion spoke.
“That’s… well great but I, er best be checking on the settlers now. You won’t believe the amount of work and the amount of disputes I have to attend to.”
At the end of the sentence he forced a little he-he but his grin faded quickly and he whirled about galloping back in the direction of Annuminas. Once out of sight he slumped forward in the saddle and sighed loudly.
“By the Valar, why do I make such a fool of myself?”


* * * * *

Cirion was walking round the ruined streets, looking at all the people rushing to finish off the days work before retiring to their makeshift shelters, or tents. His mind was drifting as darkness consumed day and he stood beside a working family to concentrate on his thoughts. Against a single, standing pillar he rested and looked west across at the last streak of sunlight which seemed to be fighting back the darkness. A cold gust blew across his back and he shivered slightly. He remembered back to his childhood when he was no more than 14 and his meeting with a person that would change his life. In his mind it was a sunny day and he was running out over the glowing wheat fields. In the distance was a girl the same age gesturing with her right hand for him to hurry up. As he neared Cirion instantly recognised her freckled, grinning face, her brown, reddish hair tied in two plats.
“Sissy! Stop going so fast I’m tired from sword practice yeste eve.” He whined in a much squeakier voice than his own. The girl identified as Sissy looked at him with a devilish glint in her eyes.
“Ooooh, is my poor soldier boy swore and twired?” She teased, pinching his cheeks between her forefinger and thumb. He pushed her away with a grin.
“How far till the banks of Anduin?”

“Not far now come on!”

A knock against his hip tore him from his reverie, the surroundings of Annuminas materialized around him and he searched for the source of his disturbance. Walking quickly down the debris cleared street was the retreating form of a small boy, with ragged clothing and dirty brown hair. From this point of view Cirion could not see his face but imagined it would have been like the boy’s hair, dirty and grime covered. He put his hand on his hip and absent-mindedly patted his purse or rather the space where his purse should have been. The realization dawned on him and he looked back at the boy his face a mixture of surprise and amazement.
“Thief!”
Cirion yelled in pursuit as the boy hurriedly scampered round the corner. As Cirion rounded the corner the boy had vanished but then smiling he reached into a pile of rubble and grabbed the collar of a squirming boy. Hefting him up out of the rubble he then let the small urchin go, the boy dropped to the ground but before he could make a move Cirion had his sword out and his eyebrows met in a scold, warning the youngster that he shouldn’t try to escape and the rest didn’t need to be said. The boy smiled and as Cirion had guessed his face was dirty and grimy but under all that filth he could tell there was a dusting of freckles. His eyes were blue and there was a twinkling of intelligence there despite the offset of his appearance.
“All right Mister, you wanna go steel to steel you will find that me size matters not.” He pulled a short dirk from inside his tunic and held it awkwardly. The boy’s voice though exuded confidence and such confidence in one so young could prove deadly for him. Chuckling Cirion advanced slowly, sheathing his sword. The boy waved the dirk at him as if to warn him that he would gut him if he must but his facial expression of doubt completely contradicted the expression his body movement gave. Then Cirion jumped forcing the boy to swing in shock. As Cirion expected the boy overextended his swing and with his right hand he grabbed the boy’s right wrist, the one holding the dirk. With a quick twist the dirk fell to the ground and Cirion gripped the boy under the armpit with his left hand. The boy was then lifted up off the ground in a painful position and when Cirion’s point was made he dropped him on his back. Looking down on him, Cirion grinned.
“My purse?” He requested holding out his hand. With a sigh the boy reached again into his tunic and handed back the stolen purse and then slumped there exhausted. In a casual manner Cirion reattached his purse to his belt and checked his sword and spoke in a laid-back voice as if nothing exciting had just happened at all.
“Your name?”
Elbowing himself up off the ground the boy replied with a grimace.
“Canthire.”
“And what you are some kind of thief or beggar?” At this the boys face split in a grin and there was a devilish glint in his eye. Standing he spread his arms high and wide and tossed his head back.
“Neigh sir, you are privileged to know Canthire Illusionist Extraordinaire!”
Instantly Cirion’s right eyebrow rose questioningly and he shook his head disbelievingly.
“Don’t believe me sir, then pray give me but a single coin and I will make it disappear!” His eyes were wide as if this was an amazing and mystical thing. Cirion again chuckling fetched a coin from his purse and chucked it to Canthire who caught it with a lighting fast snap of his hand. The boy then waved his arms around whilst wiggling his fingers about attempting to look mystifying, then the coin which for the entire part of this ceremony was firmly between his forefinger and middle finger just disappeared. The boys exaggerated look of amazement sent Cirion into fits of laughter. It was a rather lacklustre and simple magician’s trick and Cirion knew that Canthire had just slipped the coin down his sleeve, though with the act he put on you would think he was trying to pull the moon down from the sky. If anything this boy was fun to be around.
“Whoa! I guess I will never see that coin again.”
With a twinkle in his eye the boy again spoke.
“But sir I have but one more trick-“ The boy stooped and grabbed a handful of dirt which he displayed dramatically as if it was a priceless gem or artefact. “-You must look carefully at this here pile of earth get very close.” Cirion playing along with this act gazed closely his face mere inches from this pile of “enchanted” dirt. Before Cirion could react or even realise he had been duped, the boy launched the fistful of dirt into Cirion’s eyes. Momentarily blinded and reeling, all Cirion could hear were the wild laughter of Canthire and his frenzied footsteps getting fainter and fainter. When he was sure he was alone, he swore loudly and trying to rake the dirt from his eyes, sighed again.
“You got to hate children…”

nelenata
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: August 21, 2007 02:06
((I suppose you could call this part one of a two-part post sequence; I'll write the next bit when I can. As always, Nif, no personal disrespect to Reycha!

And now for the disclaimer: I am most emphatically NOT condoning illegal drug use in this post. It's a purely medicinal context, like morphine these days (incidentally a derivative of opium...). Er. Yes, sorry, I'll stop trying to cover myself and get on with it... ))

--------

It was just beginning to darken outside when Rosien curled up on her bedroll and groaned aloud, partly out of pain, partly out of irritation, and partly out of impatience. She could do that now – she was alone, for Galdin slept in his own tent, along with his family. She stared at the steam rising from the bitter infusion that sat steeping beside her, and willed it to hurry up and strengthen so that she could drink it and feel the familiar, heady rush of euphoria before falling soundly asleep. She had been promising herself this all day, and once Arkaniel had finally gone away, she had been sorely tempted simply to dull the pain, and sleep the rest of the day away.

But truth be told, Rosien had always been a little frightened of the stuff. There was no question that she needed it. The healers would never have prescribed her something so potent or addictive unless absolutely necessary. Not for the first time, she cursed the inherited bleeding sickness that prevented her from simply taking willow bark like everyone else. Blast my mother’s family, she thought bitterly. Not only do I bruise like a soft pear and bleed like a fountain at the slightest provocation, I have to mess around with this stuff every month… It wasn’t that it was unpleasant (vile taste excepted) – what worried Rosien was how good it felt. How relaxed, how happy it made her, quite apart from relieving the pain. It disturbed her that a substance could have such an effect; it disturbed her still more to know how easy it was to become dependent upon the bitter tea. Rosien did not like to place her emotions, wishes or choices into anything else’s hands save her own.

Or, indeed, anyone’s. Rosien growled and thumped her thin pillow. Why did Arkaniel have to turn up, today of all days – out of all the days in the month, why one of the three when she was guaranteed to be foul-tempered? More to the point, why did that wretched wife of his have to turn up? Rosien was still annoyed about that. It wasn’t her job; getting enough information answer the stupid woman’s questions had been like pulling teeth; and yet, somehow, she was the one being ticked off! She had the sense to be aware that her judgements and sentiments were currently more than a little skewed, but that didn’t change the feeling of injustice.

And the way Reycha – oh, I’m sorry, *Lady* Reycha – went whingeing to him is simply… pathetic. Rosien was not in the habit of allowing others to fight her battles for her, and she had little more than contempt for those who were. It is women like her who make my job even harder, with their helplessness and ‘Oh, I need my man to stand up for me!’ attitude. Arkaniel deserves better. No wonder I have to verbally bludgeon people half to death before they are convinced that I can stand the rough-and-tumble world that is commerce… Rough physical treatment Rosien did not withstand well – how could she, when the slightest knock made her black and blue? – but she knew how to become emotionally tough as leather when the need arose.

Except, it seemed, around a certain Steward-of-Arnor-to-be. What was it about the man? Even when she had been married, Rosien had had plenty of interest come her way from worthy men and otherwise, and she had never had any regrets in having to turn them down, much as she had loathed her dear husband. She could count on the fingers of one hand the men she had ever taken a true liking to, and every one of them had been out of her reach for one reason or another. She ticked them off on her fingers. Too low-born; married; more interested in men; and, this time, married again. She winced, hugging her knees, and gave a hollow laugh. Clearly she had some kind of doomed attraction to inaccessible men. Like moths to candles, she thought, watching the flicker of her lantern. It wasn’t fair.

Judging the tea to be ready, she steeled herself, held her breath and drank. It was terribly bitter – she shuddered and tried not to gag. Sweet Estë, it was only a relatively mild dose, but it was still vile. Ugh. Bleagh. Why did she never remember to keep something by to take the taste away? Pulling a face, she set the empty cup aside and curled up again in her miserable ball to wait for it to take effect. So, what should I do about it, this tender spot, this chink in my leather armour? Her initial thought was ‘get rid of that woman’, which brought a wry smile to her lips as she felt the sharp pain in her belly and lower back begin, finally, to ease. She wasn’t a killer and she didn’t care for the idea of becoming one – though she sometimes wondered how long she could have held out in that marriage. It was a mercy in more than one way that he had vanished without trace and been given up for lost.

No, bitter injustice though it was, Reycha would live. Rosien was not about to murder her, nor have it done on her orders. As the familiar surge of joy and wellbeing rose inside her with the drug, she giggled quietly to herself at the image. Ridiculous. Silly thought, best forgotten. Ahh. Oh, that felt so much better already. All revere Yavanna for the creation of poppies. I love you, Yavanna. Will *you* marry me? She grinned and stretched. Even worth the bitter taste. Rosien sighed happily and blew out the candle in the lantern before rolling over and curling up under the blanket. Ah, it would all sort itself out. Everything would work out all right. Already she felt pleasantly drowsy. She closed her eyes, and was asleep within moments.


-------------------------------------

I promise, it’s not just gratuitous introspection! I’m scene-setting here.

For those few (read: none) who are interested, you can PM me if you want to know what the tea is. Eru only knows why you'd want to know, but hey. Rosien’s condition is these days called von Willebrand’s Disease (vWD). It’s genetic, and in a nutshell, the blood doesn’t clot properly. Willow bark (and some other herbal remedies like meadowsweet) contains the substance that aspirin is made of – it thins the blood and can cause it not to clot properly, so is obviously not a good thing for someone with vWD to take.

I'm not a doctor, I just have an unhealthy interest in such things, and I reckon Rosien had a little too much going for her. Enter health complications. Muaha. I also evidently have too much time on my hands given that I researched all this… *creeps off in search of a life*

Edited to be less specific.


[Edited on 24/8/2007 by nelenata]
PotbellyHairyfoot
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Post RE: Arnor's Rebirth (read OOC, join by pm permission only)
on: August 21, 2007 05:45
Belrustan and Pb had been busy, and Bel searched out Arkaniel to give him an update; 'We've set up a smithy just to the North of the town so that the prevailing winds should keep the smoke away from the townsfolk. The smithy is not far from a coal seam and although we started out using rusted out relics from the town as a source of metals, we've lately found some abandoned mines in the hills to the west and there seems to be plenty of ore still available. We've stockpiled quite a bit of coal and ores and although we've been busy maikng tools and weapons, we'd like to start on some grand ornamentations for the Steward's hall. We'd like to see Annuminas eventually become a city to rival Minas Tirth.

PB was getting worried. On his way to the mine he has seen an armed man that he had never seen before. Moving quietly, as only a Hobbit could, he had followed the man back to a clearing. This was no group of settlers for no women could be seen. Neither were there any tools visible . All that PB saw was a goup of 30 or so heavily armed men, Dunlendings by the look of them. PB couldn't hear their converstaions, but felt, in his heart, that they were likely bandits and they were here for no good reason. From the time the Rangers had gone south, some bandits had been seen in the wilds East of Bree but never in a group this large.
He quickly sneaked away and headed nack to the smithy. Once there he set most of the apprentices to improving their defences and sent the yougest to the town to find Bel and Arkaniel to notify them of the possible threat to their safety. The smithy was directly between the bandits and town so they would be hit first, if their was an attack.




[Edited on 22/8/2007 by PotbellyHairyfoot]
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